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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913616">In Ritual, We Move</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods'>Peapods</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to trust someone before you can have rituals with them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Ritual, We Move</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Whoa! Snazzy, Cap, what's the occasion?” Tony exclaims as he alights on the common floor. </p>
<p>Steve sighs to himself and wonders how he lets himself get talked into these things. He pulls at the strip of black around his neck with frustration and turns to the other man.</p>
<p>“Honey pot mission with Natasha,” he says just to watch Tony’s eyebrows hit his hairline.</p>
<p>“Please, please for the love of everything heathen, tell me you're doing the pulling.”</p>
<p>Steve huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Thankfully, no. Apparently, my presence will make <i>her</i> presence less suspicious.”</p>
<p>“That is remarkably devious. I heartily approve. And not just because you look practically indecent in a tux.”</p>
<p>“Not much of a tux without the damn tie,” he grumps, turning back to the mirror and popping his collar again. As he starts trying to tie it again, he hears quick steps.</p>
<p>“Whoa there, soldier, it’s a bowtie, not a supervillain.” Tony grabs his hands and pulls. Steve allows and turns to face him.</p>
<p>Tony takes his biceps and presses. Steve is confused for a moment before he begins backing up. Ten steps later, his butt hits the back of the couch and he sits.</p>
<p>“You're unreasonably tall -- ”</p>
<p>“I'm only 6’2” -- ”</p>
<p>“And I refuse to give myself a cramp trying to make you look presentable.”</p>
<p>Tony’s eyes are trained on the black silk as he begins weaving the two ends and Steve is mesmerized. Tony stands now about a head taller than him and the arc reactor lights up the space between them.</p>
<p>“I guess I shouldn't be surprised you know how to do this.”</p>
<p>“I could tie a bowtie before I could recite the laws of thermodynamics,” Tony says, but his voice has gone from brash to intimate. It's warm and rough and Steve can smell stale coffee and metal shavings. It's more attractive than it has any right to be. “It was the one trapping of my upbringing I didn't mind. We treated it like a puzzle. Cross-tuck-pull-around.”</p>
<p>“We?” Steve asks, tentatively. Tony’s childhood has been largely off limits as a conversational topic. Steve doesn't want to scare him off, but he yearns for every piece of information, every casually dropped memory. Tony’s head cocks this way and that as he adjusts and pulls, checking that the bow is straight.</p>
<p>“Mom used to do dad's. I used to watch. When I was four, I asked her to teach me.”</p>
<p>There is a wealth of information in that story. Steve can hear it. But Tony is flipping the collar down and adjusting his jacket. The moment feels like it has passed.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Tony,” he says, reaching to touch it.</p>
<p>“No probl -- tell me you are not wearing the plastic cufflinks that came with the shirt,” Tony says in horror.</p>
<p>Steve is startled, “Is that -- ”</p>
<p>“It's a travesty. Wait here.” And he's off. </p>
<p>Steve gets up and examines the tie in the mirror and of course it's exquisite. Or seems to be. Steve is obviously no expert considering he'd looked up the easiest way to tie one on Youtube and had a clip on in case he couldn't figure it out.</p>
<p>Natasha arrives on the floor looking immaculate in a shimmering grey blue gown and a thick necklace of some kind of blue stones. She takes in his attire and nods in approval.</p>
<p>“You'll do,” she announces.</p>
<p>“He absolutely will not,” Tony interjects as he flies through the door to the stairs. As he's manhandling Steve's arms, pulling out the apparently offensive cufflinks, he casts an eye at Natasha. “Oh, good, the pieterite matches. It was one of mom's favorites, but she hardly ever got to wear it.” He looks back down at Steve's wrist and so misses the way Nat reaches for the necklace with what can only be surprise.</p>
<p>“You cannibalized your mother's necklace to give me poison storage?”</p>
<p>Tony snorts, “Hardly, she had that part made special.”</p>
<p>Again, Steve suspects there is more information that Tony isn't giving up. Tony is very good at that. He focuses on the silvery cufflinks Tony is pressing in and inhales sharply.</p>
<p>They're very small replicas of his shield. They aren't perfect -- the lines of red and blue are more subtle and the star is topped with a small blue gem -- but they're unmistakably based on the shield. </p>
<p>He can see the lift of Tony’s smile -- a small, private thing. “One of the only things Dad ever gave me that I genuinely loved,” he says, voice taking on that intimate quality from before. He secures the second one and adjusts the sleeves of the jacket. </p>
<p>“It's not fair to give me all these breadcrumbs when I don't have time to ask about them,” Steve says, noting that Natasha has retreated to the foyer. Giving them privacy, he realizes with a blush.</p>
<p>Tony looks up at him. There's no sign of his usual amusement or mocking. “Well, then I guess you'll have to come find me after your shindig.”</p>
<p>Steve's eyes widen and he catches one of Tony’s hands before they can drop away completely. With a blush that he can feel crawling up his collar, he dips over and kisses the top of Tony’s hand. He hears a sharp inhalation and lets himself rub a thumb over that spot.</p>
<p>“I'll hold you to that,” he says as he straightens. With a smile, he drops Tony’s hand and strides to the elevator, cheekily offering his arm to Natasha.</p>
<p>When the door closes in front of them a few moments later, Tony is still staring after him, dumbfounded.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Tony isn't sure what can of worms he has just taken a sledgehammer to, but he's certain the moment of impact was seeing Steve Rogers in a well-fit tux. Memory and longing and fantasy had smacked Tony thoroughly in the face and he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd burrowed in too close to tie the bow, selfishly pleased when he'd smelled the expensive cologne he'd bought for Steve's birthday. He'd leapt at the chance to outfit him in the old, beloved pair of cufflinks that had been one of the only tokens of affection between Tony and his father. </p>
<p>And he had hinted at one story that would confirm Steve's suspicions, judging by that out of nowhere kiss.</p>
<p>Now, he comes to the panicking portion of the evening. His first impulse is to hide in his workshop, engross himself in a project, and conveniently forget Steve exists. But that is a coward’s way out and Tony has been working hard on not being a coward when it comes to icky feelings. His second impulse is a grand gesture. He could have caterers, waiters, and a string quartet here in an hour. He has Tiffany on speed dial and a set of blue kornerupine cufflinks in mind that would match Steve's eyes perfectly.</p>
<p>He remembers Pepper’s reactions to some of his grand gestures and immediately discards all of those ideas.</p>
<p>Tony has busted open this can of worms and he has no idea how to clean it up.</p>
<p>He spends so much time agonizing over what to do that Steve makes the decision for him. </p>
<p>“Hey,” the younger man says as he saunters in. It's definitely a saunter. His shiny shoes shuffle on the marble and his hands are stuffed into pockets. He looks amazing, like an old movie star.</p>
<p>“You're back,” Tony says, cleverly. He has been flicking through his tablet on the couch and he sets it aside as Steve steps down into the sunken living room. He pulls out Tony’s bow -- it’s his now, goddamn he is in deep -- and unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt. He pulls off and tosses the jacket over the armrest. He carefully extricates the cufflinks before rolling up the sleeves.</p>
<p>It's so casual, but Tony can't help thinking it's also carefully orchestrated to drive him crazy.</p>
<p>Finally, Steve sits next to Tony, angled toward him, an arm thrown across the top. He looks at Tony expectantly.</p>
<p>“So. You owe me some stories.”</p>
<p>“So I do,” Tony stalls. “What would you like to know?”</p>
<p>“The necklace?”</p>
<p>Tony snorts. Steve is starting easy and he almost resents him. “Was not actually altered for poison. Mom thought tic-tac containers were gauche. She carried mints in her necklace.”</p>
<p>Steve laughs and the ice is broken. Tony forgets that this is supposed to be terrifying and difficult. It’s Steve. And Tony has learned that above all else, Steve just likes <i>to know</i>.</p>
<p>“The cufflinks?”</p>
<p>Tony sobers a little. The memories are bitter and Steve knows now that much of Tony’s standoffish and mocking attitude in the beginning had a lot more to do with Tony and Howard than Tony and Steve. </p>
<p>“You don't have to -”</p>
<p>“They were a gift. After I built Dummy. I got an award, dad gave them to me to wear. They'd been his. Aunt, um,” Tony pauses. Has he ever told Steve about Peggy? He drops his head, “Aunt Peggy had them made for everyone who'd known you.”</p>
<p>“Aunt Peggy?” Steve asks, and his voice is a fragile thing, but not angry or possessive like Tony feared, just confused. </p>
<p>“She was only around ‘til I was about 10. She and dad had a falling out. He told me later that they were as much about remembering her as you.”</p>
<p>Steve grasps his hand and Tony meets his eyes. They're shining, but he's smiling, just a little. “I'm sorry they fell out. That must have been hard.”</p>
<p>“Harder on mom. Which I suppose brings us to our last story. Aunt Peggy introduced my mom to my dad. Jarvis and Peggy always insisted they were in love. I never -- when I was older I forgot or I decided not to see, but then there were the bowties. Every event, mom would do dad's bowtie. They'd… she'd sit him on the bed and stand between his legs and do his tie and then kiss him. I asked to learn because,” he stops, suddenly embarrassed and unsure. Outside, New York glittered. Tony's life often resembled the movies. You couldn't be as rich as he was, and in possession of such imagination, and not be able to create cinematic situations. But this seemed too good to be true.</p>
<p>“Because you wanted to be able to show someone someday that they're loved,” Steve guesses, voice soft, eyes hooded. Tony would know that look anywhere.</p>
<p>“Steve,” Tony says, suddenly terrified. </p>
<p>“I never got my kiss. You tied my bow, but forgot something.”</p>
<p>Tony is not a coward.</p>
<p>Tony needs to do this right. “Stand up. Now come here,” he says, maneuvering Steve so that he's carefully perched on the back of the couch, the same position from earlier. Perfect distance as he cups Steve's smooth jaw. His bright blue eyes cast an unmistakably affectionate look at Tony as he leans in.</p>
<p>Steve’s lips are perfect. They’re dry and plump from fake smiles, but warm and grasping as well. Tony can taste the Gibson he’d probably nursed all night, the pickled onion and gin not as disgusting as they would seem secondhand. It’s the only thing Steve will drink when he gets roped into these shindigs. Tony has always thought it charmingly old-fashioned. </p>
<p>It’s meant to be a short, sweet kiss, the kind he can remember his mother and father sharing -- bougie affection rather than consummate passion -- but then Steve’s hands grasp Tony’s hips, circling to stroke the skin of his lower back and the kiss evolves.</p>
<p>Tony’s fingers card into Steve’s hair, messing up carefully applied gel as he rubs his thumbs against cheeks already beginning to stubble. He’s hot under his long sleeved shirt and he hasn’t been this easily lit up since he was a horny teenager.</p>
<p>It’s Steve who breaks the kiss, though only long enough to draw Tony closer. He’s unbelievably warm. High metabolism, Tony thinks. Reconsider the grocery order.</p>
<p>“You know, I still don’t know how to tie a bowtie,” Steve says, in a conspiring tone. </p>
<p>Tony smiles, he can’t even make it sarcastic, “I think I can help with that.”</p>
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